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#is this platonic self indulgent?
doodliydoos · 2 years
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pien-art · 10 months
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happy pride to binder moiraine my most beloved <3 lan and moiraine exploring gender together <3 rj i am ignoring your extreme binaries xoxo
(click image for optimal quality!)
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tink27 · 3 months
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Steddie ficlet (might do a follow up to show Eddie's reaction)
"He likes a boy"
after years of friendship, and being joined at the proverbial hip, Robin liked to think she could read Steve pretty well, however, his love of being just vague enough to confuse her made this difficult.
"who likes a what now?" still trying to get a read on Steve's feelings, but as of right now he just seemed, disconnected. Since showing up unexpectedly at her house, he had maintained that far-away sort of look that showed that even Steve didn't know what he was feeling.
"Eddie... he... we were hanging out and he" finally he fully met Robin's gaze, and the heartbroken edge to his vacant stare became evident "he was implying, heavily, that he likes me"
"... likes likes you?"
Steve's expression briefly switched to mocking disbelief at her childish choice of words, but he didn't have the energy for any kind of clever retort
"Yes Robin! like likes me!" throwing up his hands before allowing them to smack down against their Jeans ("their" because they fit them both and had been making the rotation between both Steve and Robin's wardrobe for months, she wasn't entirely sure who they belonged to to begin with, not that it mattered)
"And you're... upset?" This was baffling because in the months since Eddie returned for the upside-down, the two had never been closer. Far too many shifts consisted of Steve waxing poetic about Eddie while Robin vaguely tried to relate and be supportive. Although why Steve seemed so utterly smitten as he talked about Eddie's hair or musical elitism would never really make sense to Robin. But still, she saw how they were together.
Steve had a bad track record for love, pouring every part of himself into another person in a way that was truly heartbreaking to watch. However, it became significantly less heartbreaking when it was accompanied by Eddie's eyes following Steve around every room, and always looking to him in conversations no matter who was there because it was Steve's opinion and thoughts that mattered to him most. They truly were obsessed with each other, and honestly, Robin had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.
So Steve's stricken expression made no sense, nor did his frustration that Robin - despite being his platonic soulmate - didn't magically understand the issue he was having.
"I dont know Robs, its just he likes... Steve Harrington" his voice was defeated as he said it, but it still explained nothing
"....you're Steve Harrington" The confusion in her voice was evident "Am I missing something here, this isn't a 'King Steve' thing is it, because Eddie has made it pretty clear that he thought you were a jerk back then"
the noise of frustration from Steve showed she clearly had missed the point and never had she wished so badly to read her best friend's mind as when the tears began to well up in his eyes. She wanted to hug him, but knew from experience that Steve needed to get the thoughts out first.
There was a minute of silence that Robin had to try desperately to not break, every instinct wanting to spit out an awkward and unhelpful comment to lighten the mood, but she knew she just had to wait.
"I'm not..." the words seemed to get lodged in his throat, even those two words came out scratchy and uncomfortable
He squeezed his eyes shut "I'm not a boy"
Steve opened their eyes, with a desperate expression "I'm not a boy"
It was a statement but also a plea. Begging for Robin to know exactly what to say. She didnt.
"you're not a boy." Robin made sure to sound confident, at least she could pretend to know what she was doing. It seemed okay because they gave an awkward nod, head moving slightly too much for it to seem natural
"you're.... a girl?"
the tears seemed to spill the second she said it, and a choked noise lodged itself in their (her?) throat, but after a moment of panicked pause their eyes screwed shut and they nodded but also shrugged. Clearly just as confused by their discomfort as Robin is.
"Okay, thats okay Ste-" shit, stupid "that's okay babe, you're still you, and hey I might be... severely romantically challenged but even I know Eddie is obsessed with you"
there's a brief watery smile before the corners of her lips are pulled down "He likes Steve, he wouldn't like me"
"Horse shit" Robin wasn't as confident as she was trying to sound, but she knew that her best friend was still her best friend and that anyone who didn't adore her was an idiot (as all best friends know)
she moved to sit next to her friend who had ended up on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest, and once again the silence was allowed to stretch out before them, only broken up by heartbroken sniffles and shakey breaths
"so..." Robin wished more than any other moment that she wasn't so awkward "Not Steve?"
"I-" the thought gets broken off " It doesn't feel right, doesn't feel like it's me"
"whats you?" two words encapsulating a question that was near impossible to answer, but it still felt right to ask, to show that Robin wanted to know the answer.
the expression on her face showed that her friend also thought the question unanswerable, and a frustrated shrug fell from her
Robin hated that defeated expression, so she tried "Michelle?"
Clearly, the scrunched-up expression implied it wasn't a fit
"Hannah?" no not that
"Sarah?" seemed less disgusted but still no
"Becky?" okay back to disgust, moving on
"OH! Punch me if this sucks, but... Stevie?" Robin felt the need to justify her choice, showing that she wasn't just trying to make her keep her old name "Like Stevie Nicks! I could see that, dye your hair blonde, get some bangs"
the comment about changing her hair was obviously met with a scowl, but after a soft smile found its way onto her face "Stevie feels better"
Robin had never felt so smart, she was a fucking genius "Stevie is it babe"
Stevie spent moments looking at her, seemingly deep in thought before softly speaking "Thank you Robin"
it seemed too formal for them, to say it so directly with her name like that, but she could tell that Stevie was really grateful so Robin held back the tears (one of them had to be the butch one in this relationship)
"no problem babe" it was spoken just as softly as the thanks, and for now it seemed enough
"Now, tell me what happened with Eddie"
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aeroplaneblues · 2 years
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Same Flavor🤔💗
I knoooow we barely know anything about cyno and alhaitham but listen 15 sec of them fighting is enough for them to fit in my "enemies to lovers" group ships! Even if canon differs this will live rent free in my head🥺🥰 Also sorry if its a little ooc for kokomi but they did fought a war
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momo-t-daye · 5 days
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Part One
Co-(god)parenting a teenager with your (maybe?) ex can be quite the adventure
(O.W.L.s might be easier if you'd had the examiners as tutors since you were old enough to talk, Sirius)
So, for the mirror pattern, I'd been goofing around with attempting marbling with India ink and water, I made an awful mess but I had fun and the swirly pattern looks interesting
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optimisticweather · 3 months
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your interpretation of your f/o is valid, regardless of what the fandom/others think about it 💕💕💕
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kentstoji · 2 months
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ㅤㅤCRYSTAL.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤparing. platonic hotd x reader. + male!oc x reader.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤsetting. house of the dragon. ㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤㅤtype. headcanons (tw. future yandere)
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤthe battle of a woman was waged in her birthing bed, surrounded by blood and sweat. alicent hightower forced herself to accept this reality when her father officially made her a political pawn in an endless game of manipulations. the prize was the hightower blood immortalized in the twisted metal of swords forming the iron throne.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤaegon was an easy birth, without concerns. fragile helaena presented herself to the world silently, carrying a tranquility that would follow her later. and y/n was fire and blood —perfectly embodying the words of her house, her father's house.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤconsidered a jewel in the eyes of the court and engraved in the memory of popular imagination, y/n was the third child of the union between viserys targaryen and alicent of house hightower. she inherited her father's gentle and pacifistic nature, trying to cling to blood ties to avoid conflicts.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ(and when her mother whispered in her ear that helaena—or even she—would be the queen, the young girl looked away, coldly ignoring the treacherous poison. however, in her heart, she lacked the strength to stop loving her mother.)
ㅤㅤㅤㅤshe was often seen in the company of her siblings, helaena and daeron. despite loving and respecting her relatives equally, aegon made her feel disproportionately uncomfortable, and aemond easily left her aside, seeking acceptance from rhaenyra targaryen's children for not having a dragon.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ"no, thank you!" y/n declined with a plastic smile when her mother suggested accompanying aegon to keep him in line. "i promised to help my sister, with little joffrey."
ㅤㅤㅤㅤand, as usual, she pretended not to feel the dissatisfaction emanating from the queen at the mention of the realm's delight.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤcriston cole made it his personal mission to escort the princess to the vicinity of princess rhaenyra's chambers. and she had to admit that he at least tried to conceal the growing disdain in his stern features. he even managed to control his cruel tongue, much to the young princess's relief. deep down, she was aware of the vision cole had crafted regarding her: immaculate, chaste, and flawless.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤthe maiden herself.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤy/n's confidant, addam celtigar, chuckled upon hearing the youngest princess's account. his broad shoulders shook violently as whispers flowed through her lips, revealing an unpleasant revelation.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ"and who will protect our little princess from criston cole?" addam inquired, not losing his characteristic good humor.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ"you're terrible!" there were no courtesies or falsehoods between them. there never were.
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asexual-juliet · 10 months
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new season 2 bingo card just dropped
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goodday-goodmorn · 8 months
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Alright! Starting this shitshow of a blog off strong with a platonic yandere Bruce Wayne fic!
Heavily inspired by- @blughxreader and their batman stuff! Go check ‘em out- (specifically the one with poor reader and the rooftop escape, those are my fav’s <3)
———————————————-
Also inspired by this qoute:
'They can't do that,' she said finally. 'It's the one thing they can't do. They can make you say anything -- anything -- but they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside you.' (Gorge Orwells, 1984)
“You know, i’m pretty sure that you helping me right now would be going against natural selection.”
Bruce sent you a look, something dark in his eyes. You knew it was coming however and shamelessly avoided looking at him for that exact reason. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have said that, he never was one for jabs or jokes that hinted in any way about you dying.
“You’re kind of a mother hen ya know that? I mean, i knew before but this is really solidifying it ya know?”
It was a deflection and you both knew it, usally Bruce wouldn’t let you get away with those. But once again, these were not the usual circumstances. Truth be told he was probably just glad you were talking again, that you had some life back in your eyes, albeit only a small amount.
“Your soup is getting cold.”
Ah damn it. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice. A stupid hope, consdiering he notices fucking everything.
“So it is.”
A sigh, “Kid, you need to eat.” You knew what it meant. It was a silent question, ‘are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?’, because either way, you would be eating.
You swallowed, truth be told, you didn’t have the motivation to eat. Nor the appetite, but the alternative was him talking you through every bite and you really didn’t want that right now.
So with a sigh of your own you picked up the spoon, at least you didn’t have to cook anything, all you had to do was eat what was in front of you. You could do that. Barely any effort. It was simple.
So simple.
The spoon stays in the bowl, your hand resting on it as you stare at the soup.
It’s delicious, you know it is, Alfred's food always is, and he’d made one of your favorites too. Something nice and hearty so you would be full for a while and wouldn’t have to go through the effort of eating again too soon.
Bruce was watching you when you looked up, ever watchful, ever observant, waiting to see if he had to intervene.
You swallowed, you never liked it when he stared too hard. His gaze was always so intense. With heavy limbs, you scoop a spoonful of soup and start eating.
Bruce’s gaze softens and he lets out a soft, “Thank you.” He ruffles your hair and you don’t have the will to stop yourself from leaning into it right now.
Give and take, give and take…
You eat in silence, you’re propped up on some pillows on the bed, Bruce is sitting next to the bed on a chair.
Maybe it had been a stupid idea to ask for him, a very stupid idea but at the time you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t deal with the boy’s clinging, not like this. Not when you woke up feeling like anything but a person.
See, a few hours ago, you woke up and felt fatigued, and apathetic. Two oncoming signs of a depressive episode.
It only got worse as the day went on, you tried to be alright- you really did but, you just couldn’t do it. This whole act of playing house with the Wayne’s was already tiring enough, but for your own sanity you had to keep it up.
After all, if you fought hard against all their afflictions they would only dig their heels in and make your situation a lot worse so- you always figured from the beginning it was better to give in early.
At least, on the surface anyway. Not resist their affections, hell you hadn't even once pulled any sort of escape attempt, or tried anything. You’d barely even argued either.
Your lack of resistance was met with open arms and eagerness. Of course- they knew you were only pretending, that you didn’t view them as family, but they knew it was only a matter of time until you came around.
After all, if you act for something long enough, your brain will eventually start to believe it.
Alas, you were a stubborn little shit, and giving in voluntarily had only seemed to help you keep up this mentality longer.
Until this morning anyway.
When you woke up, feeling like shit and simply couldn’t deal with playing house with your ‘brothers’. So, in your moment of weakness, when you didn’t want to do anything or let them drag you around or cuddle or watch movies, you had done something rather unexpected.
Which of course, was to simply shut down.
They were worried as shit, but when they finally did manage to get you to talk, your shaky whisper of, “I want dad.” -Had been shocking, worrying and exciting all at once.
(It had also been a touch too real, your voice had sounded so small, so far away, and in that moment you really did just want the comforting presence of Bruce.)
So now you were here, so deep into the throws of not being a person you barely felt like moving; sitting in your bed with none other than Bruce Wayne by your bedside, stroking your hair lovingly.
You were done with the soup now, as much as you could eat anyway, before Bruce could even say anything you reasoned with him, “I’ll eat more later. Promise.”
Promises held a lot of weight here. Something practically unbreakable, Especially with Bruce. Especially with you, maybe that’s just because you liked when they had weight. It was nice; To have a concrete thing to swear on that you knew would not be broken.
Bruce probably used them to build trust in his words or something, you didn’t know, and quite frankly you didn’t care right now because well- you got to use them too so…
He thinks for a moment, and then nods, agreeing easily, “Okay.” And with that he takes the bowl from you. He’s… he’s rather agreeable right now, usually he would confirm or try and fight you more on that.
Maybe he was being more lenient because you willingly came to him? Or because you were being open right now, or maybe because he felt bad for what you were going through or-
Gods you don’t have enough energy to ponder this.
You nod and lay back down, he guides you down most of the way. Now you’re back like before, lying in bed, cheek smushed against your pillow, starting at him blankly.
You break the silence as he pulls the blanket over you.
“What type of bird do you think everyone would be?”
He looks back to you, a small upturn of his lips and eyes crinkled slightly in an amused manner. “Why do you ask?”
You shrug, “Bored.”
A partial truth. In reality you were thinking about all that poetic shit about you being like a bird in a fancy golden cage. A very very well cared for bird with access to some deep fucking pockets but you know, still in a cage. Even if the cage is real fancy and has amazing food, even better wifi, and a home movie theater.
(You think Bruce would let you install an indoor pool? Or a jacuzzi. …He probably would. You should ask sometime, ah- you’re getting off track here.)
So anyway- fancy bird poems and then you started thinking about what type of bird you would be and then it kinda spiraled from there.
“Hm. Well, that depends, who do you wanna start with?”
“Mmm… Alfred, cause i think he’s the easiest.”
A little amused quirk of his brow, “What bird is he then?”
“Penguin. Cause he’s always dressed all fancy, and penguins got that sleek fancy vibe about them. They are kinda short for Alfred though…”
Bruce nods, as if taking your words into consideration, “Emperor penguin then. They’re the biggest penguin species.”
Contuiting on just to have something to blabber about you confidently say, “Jason is an emu.”
——————
After a very engaging deep dive into what types of birds everyone was-
(Tim was a woodpecker on account of all the times you’ve seen him slam his head into his desk while working; Dick was an ostrich because if Jason was an Emu then those two had to match; Cassandra got the honor of being a crow; Damien was a kinglet, a ruby crowned kinglet, purely because they are small and for some reason you only recall pictures of seeing those bird look annoyed, Bruce was a harpy eagle because they look big and grumpy, And finally you were a pigeon.)
-You were now half asleep as Bruce read to you like you were a little kid.
It was… nice. Like all the other times you were forced to hang out with the Wayne family. (Only this time you hadn’t been forced, you had called for him.) Nice but with that ever present little weight in the back of your mind, reminding you of just how much these people had taken from you.
Right now though, that little weight was… it was a lot easier to ignore.
You let Bruce’s calming voice wash over you, you were barely listening at this point but he paid no kind to your lack of attention.
This was nice.
No one had ever taken care of you when you went into one of your episodes before. Usually you had to suck it up and work yourself up to go get some food and water before laying in bed until the feeling went away.
It was a terrible feeling, a staggering sensation just on the edge of emptiness. But not there enough for you to not feel anything, it was almost as if everything was muted. All sensations dull, your thoughts weren't but you were apathetic to them.
In short, it sucked. Majorly.
But now, here you were, tucked into bed, fed a warm hearty meal, and being read to with such tenderness and care.
You didn’t even notice that your eyes started to water. But Bruce did. He noticed everything.
Gently, so gently, he wiped away the tear about to fall from your eye. His own were soft as they stared at you. Soft and filled with a look you couldn’t decipher, a look you didn’t want to decipher because the closest thing you could even begin to compare it to was- …was love.
Love.
Fuck- love.
You knew there was something wrong with this family, of course you did- they kidnapped you for pete’s sake, but- but they also had been unconditionally kind to you didn’t they?
You… You couldn’t-
“-do this anymore.”
Your voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. A quiet confession.
‘I can’t do this anymore.’
Bruce sighed, his voice level, but quiet, fitting of the atmosphere. “You don’t have to, it’ll be so much easier if you just give in kiddo.”
He cupped your face in his hand. His own skin was scarred, rough, callous, and yet he held you with such care. It was almost reverent. He gazed at you with an almost sad look, as if your passive struggle hurt you more than him.
(It probably did. He didn’t have anything to worry about after all, you would break eventually. You could only keep telling yourself this was pretend for so long.)
“…”
Stubborn. Always so stubborn in the most muted way; silence. You weren't one to make large outbursts, or outwardly resist, but even so, passive stubbornness. It was something Bruce was fond of; how resilient you were.
You look away from his gaze, not meeting his eyes. His eyes, always so intense, always so much behind those icy blue scaleras.
“Is it-“ You start, the chemical imbalance in your brain making you honest right now.
You realize suddenly that this is the first real conversation you’ve had in months. There was no keeping up the act here. No holding your tongue or dancing with your words, no overthinking about what response would make you the perfect sibling, the perfect child. No catering, no push and pull of deciding how much of you you want to put into your words.
This was honest. The most honest you’ve been since you were kidnapped.
Bruce tilts his head slightly, patiently waiting for you to continue. He could sense a breakthrough, and he always did know when it was better to hold his tongue.
“…Is it worth it?” You say, eyes filled with so much emotion simmering just under the surface.
Bruce has a good idea as to what you’re asking. He knows you. Knows the way you think, the way you come to conclusions, your speech patterns, he knows you well.
(And yet it’s not nearly as much as he wants to. He wants to know more, to know everything, he wants for you to share such details about yourself willingly. He wants you to come to him after a rough day and listen to you rant. He wants to hear you laugh as you discover a new interest. He wants-)
“Yes.”
He strokes your hair gently, voice impossibly soft.
“It’s worth it.”
He answers your asked, unasked questions without a moment's hesitation.
‘Is it worth it to do all this? To keep me here against my will? To have me locked away like some canary in a gilded cage?’
“If it means you are safe and happy.”
“Is this really happiness?”
“It can be if you let it.”
“…”
“Don’t you like it here? You have a loving family, a nice house, you never have to worry about food or safety ever again.”
“…”
He cups your face with both his hands now, making you meet his gaze. Always intense. Too intense. You can’t handle the weight of his love for you.
Flicking your eyes to the wall you mumble, “There’s a saying. If you love something, let it go.” It’s weak, half hearted, you aren’t even sure you really mean it. (You aren’t even sure if you want to be let go anymore… you can’t imagine returning to a life before all this.)
(And Bruce knows this.)
You look back at him, meeting his eyes because you- you just- you know it’s stupid to ask but you can’t stop yourself-
“Why?”
You don’t need to explain any further. Bruce always seems to know what you’re asking.
‘Why me? Why do any of this? Why go through all the trouble just to keep some random kid?’
“Because I love you.”
He says it so easily. So simply, so calmly, as if it is undeniable fact, so once more you ask with more feeling this time,
“Why?”
You can’t stop yourself from leaning into his hold as he gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It’s childish, it’s stupid, it’s dumb, it’s humiliating-
He wipes away new forming tears, still cupping your face, “Because you’re precious.”
You choke out, “You don’t even know me.”
“So then, let me know you.”
Weakly, you shake your head, his hands fall from your face as you choke out, “I- I don’t- i can’t.”
“Hey, look at me sweetheart.”
You do, looking up at him and seeing only the love of a father. You don’t know how to handle such a sight. It’s foreign and it burns and yet, you are drawn in like a moth to a flame.
“We already love you kid. Nothing could change that.”
“You love the idea of me.” You counter, shuffling to prop yourself up a bit because laying down for this just seems too- too vulnerable.
He sighs, “If you think that then we seriously should have had this talk sooner.” He mentally tsk’s, he knows he’s been putting it off for so long because well- you’ve been good. And the family was happy and you were adjusting better than anyone expected you to.
It seems his negligence has resulting in this problem growing however.
He says your name, folds his hands and looks at you calmly, “-If the family wanted another child, then we would have gone to an orphanage.”
You swallow, he continues, “But, we didn’t want just any old person. We wanted you.”
You try to deny his words, no one’s ever wanted that before, and yet you can’t. Because it’s the only thing that even begins to make sense in your head. The only logical reason any of this would have happened.
You can’t deny it.
They love you.
They’re insane, they kidnapped you and yet- yet they- it doesn’t-
“-make sense.” You whisper, even though it’s the only thing that makes any semblance of sense.
“I know, you’re confused and not used to this and scared, but you’re the only thing holding yourself back. If you just let yourself believe we’re a family, you’ll feel so much better. This mindset is only hurting you sweetheart, you need to let it go.”
You look at him, eyes wet and so vulnerable as you whisper in a small voice, “I don’t know how to.”
And he pulls you close now, into a hug, it’s a bit of an awkward angle because he’s on a chair next to the bed and you’re on the bed, but you barely even notice with the way he’s pressing you to his chest. He’s warm as he wraps his arms around you and gently strokes your hair, consisting, comforting.
“We’ll be there every step of the way, start small.”
You shudder. The weight in the back of your mind is back in full force. He's asking you to give up your last bit of resistance. Your last act defiance. He’s asking you to give yourself up voluntarily. To fully endorse the idea that they are your family.
The worst part is, you don’t find yourself all that horrified with the idea.
If anything, you’re more scared that you’ll mess up somehow and piss them off with the real you and end up locked in a basement or something.
You don’t- you don’t know how to have a family. How to have siblings, a father- you don’t know how to interact or what to say and what to do- what if you fuck it up? what if you aren’t acting enough like a family and-
“-breathe with me kid. Com’on, in for 5.” He’s stroking your hair still, talking with you as he counts. You find yourself unconsciously following the deep rumble of his words.
“That’s it… hold for 4. One, two-“ It’s actually really nice to listen to him. Pressed so close like this you can hear the purr and rumble of his words in his chest. You can feel his chest expand with his own steadying breaths.
“Exhale for 6. One, two, three-“ You repeat his number sequence until you find your breathing is back to normal. Not that you had noticed how frantic it got to begin with.
Bruce hums, you feel the vibrations. You can hear his heartbeat like this. It’s nice, being held in his arms. “Good job kid, better?” His voice is a smooth rumble.
You nod weakly against him.
The two of you stay like that for a bit, him holding you as you listen to each other's heartbeats. You ground yourself with his and find your eyes drooping once more with sleep.
You make a noise; a hum of sorts and he sends you his own in return, soft, questioning.
“I-“ You clamp your mouth shut, thinking about what you’re about to say, thinking about if this is what you really want.
In the end you settle on this being the best choice, “I’ll try.” You swallow, mouth suddenly feeling dry, Bruce doesn’t give you any time to regret it though. He presses his face to your hair, affectionate.
“I’ll make the transition as comfortable as possible.” He promises against your hair, not being able to hide the smile in his voice.
You swallow again, starting up with slight nerves clear in your voice, “B-but i told you i’m not exactly very likable s-so don't regret it when i start speaking my mind and-“
That gets a laugh out of him, an amused kid huff, “You can’t possibly be any worse than Jason or Damein.”
You give a weak smile, “I dunno old man, think I could give ‘em a run for their money in bluntless.”
Bruce is smiling, you see it when he pulls away and looks down at you with such adoration. “We’ll have to see then.”
He’s happy, more than happy at finally hearing you be you. As much as he wants to keep you in his arms and listen to you for the rest of eternity however, that was a rather exhausting conversation. You look more than ready for some rest.
Gently, (always so gentle with you, as if you were somthing to be treasured), he laid you back down on the bed.
You let yourself be tucked in. You let him press a kiss to the top of your head. You let him turn off the lights.
“Um hey B- D-Dad?”
Bruce notices the slip up, but he lets it go. You’ve just made a lot of progress, and you’re clearly trying.
“Yes?”
“Do you uh- can i call you something else? Dad just feels really weird and kinda artificial at times so I was thinking maybe something more natural like maybe Pops? Or something like that i don’t know i just-“
“Of course you can.” He cuts off your nervous ramble easily, “You can call me whatever feels most natural, kid.”
You suck in a breath, soothed by his clam tone.
“O-okay. Cool… cool cool cool. Uh well then, could you maybe- maybe er- read to me? If that’s- if that’s alright..?”
Bruce was so proud of you. So much progress was made not too long ago and you were already trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone. You were trying so hard, bless you, you precious darling child.
He turned on the bedside lamp and took his seat on the chair once more, picking up the abandoned book.
Truth be told, Bruce was a busy man and he should be leaving because he has patrol in an hour, but he’ll be damned if he can’t carve out time for you. Especially when you asked to see him today.
(Especially when you were finally willing to view him as a father.)
“Would you like me to continue this one or do you want a different book?”
You jerkily nod, “That one’s fine.”
So, he begins to read once more, his voice a calming drawl that washes over you. Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and soon you are yawning and drifting off.
Once Bruce is sure you’re asleep he closes the book. With such a soft gaze he gently brushes the hair out of your face, smiling to himself. Then he gets up and turns the light off, walking out of your room and letting the door close with a soft click.
He isn’t surprised to find all of his boys camping out at the door.
He sighs, looking over the lot of them. From the looks of it they’ve been camping out here all day, or have been continuously coming back.
The only one who even has the decency to act sheepish that he’d been caught is Dick, and even then, he barely looks sorry.
Bruce shakes his head fondly at his boys, ushering them all out of the hallway to your room to let you sleep in peace
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dwaekkiforpresident · 3 months
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“what’s wrong u/dwaekkiforpresident?”
oh nothing just thinking about how felix would love going through your playlists and liked songs with you to learn more about you.
he’s got such an open mind that you could start playing a german death metal band for him and he’d wholeheartedly give it a chance.
even if felix didn’t like the song, he’d be so so sweet about it.
“that’s such an interesting song! i’ve never heard anything like that before… wow. what else do you like?” he’d tell you with those big brown eyes of his. his eyes are just so beautiful.
felix’s all for music in different languages too. you’re showing him a portuguese song? he’s got both headphones over his ears and he’s bopping his head to the beat. french? he knows what they’re saying (to some extent, he’s so smart)!
if he comes across songs from one of your past “cringe” eras, (felix has had plenty, go through his playlists next) he’d laugh about it with you and look at you with starry eyes, wishing he could have met you sooner to see just how you were in that time of your life.
fast forward to a few days or weeks later and he as the aux? you’ll definitely hear your influence on his music taste. his favorite songs blended with a splash of you; just how felix likes it.
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braisedhoney · 10 months
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lil cowboy narry shenanigans bc despite everything i love him
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and also this. because he is just such a silly little guy and no amount of power can stop me from picking him up like a potato sack.
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qilinkisser · 4 months
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Anemic selfshippers!! Did you know that your f/os are there to support you in any way they can? They'll make sure to check in with you and ask you how you're feeling. If you're dizzy, they'll let you hold onto them in whatever way you'd like, to help you balance yourself! They will never judge you for feeling out of breath either, even if it's from very simple activities! They know how hard it can be on you. If you take meds for your anemia, they'll remind you to take them, and to get more when you're low. If you need to eat iron-rich foods, they'll take special care to make sure you're eating them, and they'll even cook for you if you'd like! Your f/os are there to support you in any way they can, because they love and care about you!
PRO.SHIP DNI!
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quanblovk · 7 months
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The Frozen General and The Jester......they can only be up to no good...
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00fairylights00 · 4 months
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Hypersomnolence
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Haha funny story, I was diagnosed with a sleep disorder in November after struggling with it unknowingly for give or take 18 months. Turns out I’m not crazy and falling asleep against your will multiple times a day is actually not a good or normal thing.
So permit me to write the puppet like a sap as I need this right now lol. Yes these are in fact all things I experienced but I am medicated for them now hooray!
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One task, that was all you’d managed to get through today. You felt sick and heavy, opting to sit on the cold ground before your body made you, it was a battle to stay awake as sleep attacked you again.
It was only early afternoon and you’d struggled through your one task of sweeping, you were certain everyone at the hotel thought you to be lazy, even if they’d all told you otherwise.
You’d been sick like this for a long time, long before the petrification disease or the puppet frenzy, both events having a negative effect on the way you’d usually manage your symptoms. 
And while you appreciated the sanctity you’d been spared at Hotel Krat, the nagging feeling of needing to repay Lady Antonia for her kindness was not helping your case.
You sat with your head in your hands, slipping in and out of consciousness, losing the battle again. Usually, Polendina would find you, send you to your room to rest and that would be it for the day, once you were in bed you found it hard to do much of anything else. Which you supposed was good for your body but it made your emotional well-being an absolute wreck.
Lady Antonia had asked you time and time again to be kinder to yourself, to feel accomplished of the things you could do and that you were welcome here no matter how sick you were, and she would know a thing or two about being sick.
But, you had a bad habit of being nasty to yourself, and with your sleep-related illness only seeming to get worse you couldn’t remember the last time you’d spoken kindly to yourself.
You felt like shit.
A hand at your shoulder, delicate and tender shook you but it didn’t do much to rouse you. Your vision swam uncomfortably through the gaps in your fingers, your head being too heavy to lift up. Hands grasped your wrists, pulling gently to reveal your face that was then taken into those same hands, one soft and warm, the other firm and cold.
With the weight of your head now being supported by P’s hands you could somewhat force yourself to look at him. His expression was unreadable, as always, but his presence was a balm to your spiralling thoughts.
The friendship of Geppetto’s Puppet had been good for you, P didn’t care how tired you were he was just happy to see you, he didn’t expect anything but your presence and that was something you could give freely, tired or not.
He tilted his head in question to what you assumed to be your position on the floor, slumped over rather uncomfortably.
“It just came on, I had to sit down,” you mumbled, he seemed to frown, getting down on one knee and shifting you against him to pick you up.
With you cradled to his chest, he ascended the stairs. You burrowed down against his chest, relishing in how nice it was to be looked after. 
It was almost like the trip up to your room didn’t happen, one moment you were snug to P’s chest, the next you were under your sheets and propped up against the headboard. P took it upon himself to remove his shoes and coat and sit on the opposite side of the bed to keep you company.
“Sleepy?” P asked innocently, you nodded trying desperately to suppress another yawn. 
“I-“ he started, a thoughtful look crossing his face, “-want to help. How do I help?”
He gently took your hand in his own, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. The astounding amount of care he treated you with was sure to tear you apart in the best ways, making your exhausted mind spin.
“Just stay here with me for a bit,” You laid your head on his shoulder, “I think that’ll help.”
“Okay.”
He mimicked you, resting his head on top of yours, pulling the sheets further up your lap. Doing what he could to keep you comfortable, a concept he was still trying to grasp.
“Thank you P,” you mumbled, snuggling closer, “love you.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to your head, nose buried in your hair, “I love you too.”
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lovinglin · 4 months
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That one part where he suddenly has the voice of an angel... 😭😭😭 /pos
Cover is originally made by LiterallyNoOne
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mothmanperson · 4 months
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Picture Unperfect
cw: gender neutral reader, slightly insecure reader, angst, tiniest bit of fluff, reader doesn’t cry, mean frat dude probably, ooc probably
tw: mocking, being made fun of for appearance
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well at least until you have the glow-up everyone else seems to be having, or already had, or never needed.
you were so jealous of those people,
and you genuinely never understood how it even came to, that you befriended them.
that they genuinely want to hang out with you in breaks, write you(by their own will, mind you) regularly or ask if you‘d like to go out with them, to a restaurant, expensive ones, your friends seemed to have that money, or amusement parks, or to one of your places.
you were amazed by the fact they simply didn‘t care. they didn’t care that you looked a mess 80% of the time, they didn’t care that you had emotions, that you were more sad and depress at times. your small friend group didn’t care that your room looked how it looked, overlooking the trash mountain by the side of your bed, which you didn‘t have the energy’s to clean up yet.
you were never conventionally attractive. and you never will be, you made peace with that. it was hard, and it still is. every time you come across a reflective surface and catch a peek of yourself you falter, jump at someone you don’t quite recognize. you know those features, all to well, after spending hour standing in front of a mirror, criticizing every wrong placed cell in your body, but they don’t make sense in the way you want them to. your image in your mind is so much different than whatever it is that owlishly blinks back at you.
but after years of yearning to be normal, to look normal, you‘ve come to an agreement with your body and mind, and now you don’t completely hate how you look anymore. it was nice in a way, but it still wasn’t easy.
you felt like you lost so much in your younger years. something you could never recover or catch up on.
conventionally attractive people have it easy, you always thought. sure they might have problems too, but they didn’t wake up with dread, dressing in the biggest and darkest clothes because nothing else felt right on their dirty skin, you always told yourself, in that close mindedness of yours. and that’s okay, somehow this close mindedness brings comfort, just once you only thought of yourself.
conventionally attractive people didn’t have the problem of seeing their friends get pined after left anf right, didn’t have to give advice to a topic they couldn‘t even imagine, and only dream of.
people tend to say ‚your time will come‘ or ‚you will meet someone when you least expect it‘, well…. now you don’t expect it at all anymore, so where is your soulmate? you angrily thought to yourself as a, now ex friend, told you how hard it was to have three people have a crush on her at the same time, because it was so exhausting trying to be nice to them, even if they annoyed her and she only had eyes for one.
‚just block them‘
you once said to which she simply replied
,i don’t want to be mean‘
you stood up and left then and there. your friendship crumbled like ash after. and you never talked again.
romantic interaction and people telling you they like you, romantically or platonically, wasn’t really a thing for you growing up.
one or two friends stayed with you over the years, but the rest you never saw or even talked to anymore.
you often wonder if they think about you as much as you do about them and the way they openly disrespected you and hurt your feelings and you didn’t even get it.
you never had much reassurance growing up that how you looked didn’t matter, that to some people you looked cool, that they wanted to be friends with you because you looked the way you looked.
and that ruined so much for you, most of which you have yet to heal from, yet you’re trying your best.
and then, after you graduated from secondary school, you went off to a technical college. were you met your new friends.
they were so odd and awkward at the beginning. but so were you. you guessed it was destined you got jumbled together into this mess of a group you call friends.
and things finally started to look up. you laughed and cried, shared secrets and insulted each other, it just fit perfectly.
you were oh so greatful to finally find people that you could start to believe, wanted to be friends with you.
even when you started to doubt and ask, they always reassured you, so lovingly, in a way no one else had, you had no other chance than to believe them.
but you have yet to come over the fact that such, ethereal, pretty and handsome people, wanted to be friends, with you, it sounded absurd and made absolutely no sense to you.
all of them were more than just conventionally attractive, and definitely way above ‚over average‘ and they definitely knew, how could they not?
gojo satoru, a tall, white haired dude with big blue eyes was the heartthrob of the school. wearing sunglasses all the time, his laid back and nonchalant personality made him even more popular with everyone but the teachers.
geto suguru was more toned down, a calm and collected individual, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t just as much of a menace as satoru. his long hair, done in an attractive loose man-bun most of the time, helped bring across his put together yet relaxed persona. and slightly slanted and ever narrowed eyes that gave him such an alluring look that had everyone swooning in secret.
(he even had tunnels, a feature you shared, which made you even more happy, his were just a bit smaller than yours)
and last but not least, shoko leiri, an ever tired, chain smoking woman. her brown hair suited her well, and while controversial, so did her dark circles, it gave her such character you couldn’t even begin to describe. when you looked at her, everything just clicked into place and made sense. having smoker parents yourself, her scent was comforting, oddly enough, mixed with her cherry scented lipgloss (she sometimes shares it with you).
and then there was you… you knew how you looked like, and that’s the exact reason you avoid looking at yourself in group pictures. it was a sweet gesture of them, of course, and you appreciated not being left out, but you simply couldn’t stand seeing yourself next to them. so out of place, so happy yet, it almost disgusted you, you disgusted yourself for ruining such a pretty photo once again.
‚aww, it looks so cute!‘
you excitedly tell your friends as they show you the picture they took of you all while out eating, skillfully ignoring that nauseatingly familiar face, stuffing itself full with food. they don’t notice how you felt, years of covering your disappointment made that possible.
it’s not like you didn’t want them to see or know, because they did, you just… didn’t know how to stop doing it.
if you knew someone, gojo most of the time, took a picture, you took great care in hiding your face, with your hand or a piece of clothing. but sometimes your weren’t fast enough or didn’t notice gojo was taking a picture in the first place. he loved to take those kinds of pictures. and you let him have his fun, admittedly, some of them were really funny and made you laugh aswell, but you‘d never tell them that… they‘d never let you live it down.
it was only one time this kind of escalated into something ugly…
———————————————————————
„oh my god, i look disgusting in this picture..“
„whaaat? no! you look totally cute“
you shot gojo a glare as you continued to look through the plethora of pictures he had taken, physically sick at the way you looked.
it was already evening and the sun just started to set. you and gojo sat on a bench, waiting for geto and shoko to come back from their smoking break. satoru hated the smell and you didn’t smoke anymore so you two always did something else while they killed their lungs.
and today satoru felt like taking pictures, stupid ones that looked ugly no matter how you looked at it, but also some really pretty ones if it wasn’t for you and your little imperfections that only seemed visible to you.
„i’m going to delete them..“
you said, after a lengthy pause and instantly were tackled. gojo put his whole body weight on top of you and reached for his phone, eyes wide and panicked.
„NO YOU‘RE NOT- THOSE PICTURES ARE AMAZING-„
he yelled, or more like whined as he struggled to get ahold of his phone, you kept far away from him. you tried to push him off but to no avail, so you wriggled your way out from beneath him and took some steps back as a precaution.
„nooo- i look awful in these, i’m not gonna let you keep those-..“
you groaned, sidestepping your friends attempt at catching you.
„oh come on, why not? it’s not like anyone is gonna see..“
he tried convincing, stalking closer, eyeing his expensive phone, gripping tightly in your hand.
you faltered a bit, your arm lowering slightly, easily convinced.
„alright, okay“
you sighed out
„but you’re not gonna show anyone else alright? you can send them into the group chat but no showing around..“
you handed him back his phone and he sighed in relief, checking his phone for damage that wasn’t there.
always so quick to exaggerate.
you really hope you could rely on the small chance no one would see.
but alas, you hoped to soon..
days later, in the big break, you sat with suguru, shoko and gojo at a small table at the back of the cafeteria, where you always sat. there was more space for others to sit at but most f the time it was just the four of you.
not today though, some people you didn’t know, but gojo apparently did sat with you for some stupid reason, talking his ear off and taking all his attention.
to say it was awkward would be an understatement. you geto and shoko weren’t quite as extroverted as gojo was, so you didn’t talk, which you were totally okay with, but there were strangers at the table that stared, and talked about topics you didn’t know about. they were loud and unruly, disrespectful and you you could see satoru cringe here and there at something one of the guys said, his phone screen side up layed in front of him, as he played with it impatiently, hoping the guys he knew but really didn’t know would finally leave.
it all happened in a matter of seconds, and gojo received a message, his screen lighting up, showing a dimly lit photo.
it was one from a few days ago, on the bench.
someone stupid and ugly looking sitting right next to him, as if they were on the same level. they shouldn’t even be near him.
thoughts started to crowd their mind, progressively getting worse and worse but you said nothing.
„who is that person with you on that photo?“
one of the guys asked, his voice sounding odd, almost degrading even if he hadn’t said anything bad. you snapped out of your mind, and your eyebrows furrowed. now you felt ashamed.
you could just hope gojo wouldn’t say it wad you, to spare you the embarrassment of being perceived.
„is that your partner?“
another voice called out, less condescending and more curiously before a third voice joined in, grating and mocking tone of voice. it hurt your ears.
„really? you could do better than that, satoru, they look so weird, you can even see their double chin“
the voice laughed, and so did the other’s. all the while your friends already small smile slipped from his face, as now a borderline annoyed expression took it‘s place.
„and such unclear skin“
„and their weight?“
„they look stupid“
„ugly“
„unlovable“
you weren’t quite sure anymore which words your mind made up and which ones were truly spoken, but it mattered little. if you could, you would just love to sink into the ground and never face earth an it’s opponents ever again.
„it doesn’t matter does it?!“
gojo’s uncharacteristically angry voice interrupts, and you were happy it was quiet again.
„how they look doesn’t fucking matter does it? their personality is awesome, unlike yours and they look stunning something you could never achieve, so fuck off..“
it was unusual for gojo to slip out of his happy-go-lucky persona, but this was his friend we‘re talking about, he never held back when it came to his friends.
you didn’t listen what happened after that, leaning onto geto’s shoulder and indulged yourself in your phone, a nice distraction from this escapade.
you knew it didn’t matter, those guys… didn’t matter, but that didn’t make it hurt less. emotions from still open wounds trickled out like cold blood. you took a deep breath as the table got silent again. no one talked. but it wasn’t awkward.
there was just a bitter solemn tension in the air.
you were a bit more reserved after that, quiet and less engaging in silly conversations, and your friends knew to give you a bit of time, they didn’t pity you and kept treating you normally.
but they were a bit more affectionate, especially geto.
gojo kept his distance knowing he was part of the cause, and also because he didn’t know if or how he could apologize.
shoko gave you her silent support, a stable individual you could rely on. and you loved her for that.
it was alright though, you‘ll come around eventually, you always did…
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